Child of Mine (26 page)

Natalie's expression did a one-eighty. “How did you do that?” Staring at it closely, she exclaimed, “Hey, I don't have that one!” She squished the penguin to her cheek. “How did you know?”

Kelly smiled, threw up her hands, and made a face as if to say,
“I have no idea.”

“So
cool
,” Natalie giggled, running into the kitchen to give her aunt a closer look before running back again to offer the stuffed animal back to Kelly. “Do it again!”

Kelly put the penguin into the purse and did it again.

“Are you a magician?” Nattie asked.

“You've seen the movie
Beauty and the Beast
, right?”

Nattie nodded.

“Do you remember the part where Beast turns into the handsome prince?”

“I love that part.”

“I was ten when I saw that movie.”

“I'm nine,” Nattie announced.

Kelly widened her eyes. “Really? I figured you were closer to eleven.”

Nattie beamed. Kelly expounded upon the magic scene, and how it had made her feel, and how she wished she could do the same kind of stuff. Some of it was true, but most of it was a fabrication designed to create a rapport, and from the looks of Natalie's enthusiastic response, it was working.

“Can you do other stuff?”

“Lots,” Kelly replied. “I'll show you sometime.”

“Cool!”

In a matter of minutes, Nattie was putty in her hands. But it was out by her car, after Jack had walked her out, that she realized she might have dodged the San bullet.

And then he kissed her, which took her by surprise, so much so that she barely realized what he had done until it was over. She wanted him to kiss her again, when she was actually paying attention, but he suddenly seemed shy.

Kelly put her hand on the door latch. It was cold to the touch, but Jack's warm hand was on her arm, and he was telling her something appreciative, but she was still lost in thought, her head
spinning. And not just with the kiss, but with Nattie. What a sweetheart!

I should have tested her.
It would have been so easy: lollipop in, lollipop out—
presto
!
But she hadn't, and yet she still hadn't been able to turn off the act, the manipulative strategies she employed to get children to warm up to her.

“I knew Nattie would like you,” Jack said as she got into her car. He pushed the door shut, and she rolled down the window.

They said good-bye for another five minutes, and before long Kelly was driving down the street, heading for home.

A lone tear ran down her cheek, and she wiped it away, worried that “normal” was lost to her, wondering if she'd forgotten how to let relationships evolve naturally without employing manipulative strategies and techniques.

She did a quick calculation. In the past two years alone, she'd probably interacted with about fifty children, any one of whom could have turned out to be Emily. Fifty didn't seem like a lot, but for each one, she'd prepared meticulously.

Somewhere along the line, in the process of tricking little children, she'd tricked herself.

How do I get it back?
she thought, wondering again why she'd decided not to get Natalie's sample.
It was in the bag.

Another three miles down the road, it came to her. A simple answer, yet mystifying: She was genuinely fascinated with Jack, and not just Jack, but Jack and Natalie together, as a family. They had something special. They were connected to each other by something greater than mere DNA. Jack had told her story after story of their lives as a family, something that couldn't be revealed by a test, or granted by a court decree. It was forged by the caring and sharing of life experiences.

She smiled. Sharing of kisses, too. The kiss, the best promise of a possible life together, got to the heart of the matter. And she'd practically missed it, but what she remembered of it was 
good.
Her entire world had tilted in the simple act of Jack's lips pressing against hers.

Kelly took a breath, lost in the strange fantasy brewing within her, and a new hope—one she'd never even allowed herself to imagine. And it was perfect.

Because it occurred to her that, even if, or when, she finally found Emily, she still might not find what she'd been looking for. In fact, it was quite likely that what she'd been searching for, what she'd given up eight years of her life to find, was lost to her forever.

I want this,
she realized.
A real family.

I
told you. I have no idea who that woman is,” San replied, standing behind the island, removing the dishes from the dishwasher, drying them carefully, putting them into the cupboard above the oven.

Jack leaned on the counter, puzzled.

“I have a knack for faces, Jack, but I've never seen her, definitely not at church.”

Jack heard scampering upstairs. Nattie had disappeared to put on her jammies and was probably desperate to get back down for fear she might miss something.

So where did Kelly come
from?
he mused, thinking back to that first day at the office. San removed her purse from the stool. “You're overthinking this. You met a nice girl at the airport who happened to hear Mick use Nattie's nickname.” She tapped her temple. “She's probably like me, with a steel trap for names.”

Jack nodded absently.

“What? You think she's a kidnapper or something?”

“No, of course not,” Jack replied. “Wait . . . you actually liked her?”

“She's fantastic,” San said, grabbing her clutch from the counter.
She snapped it open, removed her keys, snapped it shut again. “I wish I could take credit.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, their lingering disagreement still in the air. Normally San would have leaned over and pecked Jack on the cheek, but not tonight.

After San had left, Nattie and Jack huddled in front of
Brave
, sharing a blanket. Clumsily, Nattie grabbed a handful of popcorn, spilling more on Jack than in her mouth, giggling at a story line that held zero surprises.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I wasn't mad at you. I was sad at you.”

“Okay,” Jack answered, and a few minutes passed.

“She's really pretty, Dad.”

“Pretty what?”

Nattie gave him a look. “Puh-lease.”

“You like her?”

She shrugged and pulled up the blanket to her chin, scrunching into Jack like the cuddle-bug she was. “I already miss Laura.”

So did Jack, but he was growing extremely fond of Kelly. And yet, he had to admit, she seemed even more secretive than he had originally thought, whether in a good way or a bad way, he couldn't tell.
Mysterious.
Calculating in what she revealed. Choosing her words carefully, when carefully chosen words didn't seem necessary.

San would have said,
“All women
are unfathomable, Jack. We're mysterious by design. Get over
it! Enjoy it!”

He also had to admit, kissing her was the highlight of the year, the taste of her like honey, her lips soft. And her scent—spicy flowers and sea breezes. But he had to admit, to his chagrin, she'd seemed rather distracted at the time.

“Watch the movie, Dad.”

“I am.”

“No you're not. You're thinking about stuff.”

“Sorry.”

The next day, Sunday morning, after texting Kelly and finding her up early, Jack called. Kelly greeted him enthusiastically, commenting on how she'd just been thinking about him, and they had a post-date kind of conversation.

“And I
loved
getting to meet Nattie,” she added, commenting on how delightful his daughter was and how she hoped to get to know her better. After Jack hung up, he realized he should have requested another date. But something was nagging at him again. Was the connection to San really that important . . . or was it something else?

He and Nattie attended their own church, after which they took a drive, both lost in their own worlds—Nattie surely thinking of Laura, while he tried to get a grip on his conflicted feelings for Kelly.

On Monday, normally a slow day at the office, Jack decided to leave things to Mick. Nattie slept in till nine, and when she finally got to the kitchen, there were scrambled eggs waiting for her, plus two Pop-Tarts, one blueberry, the other chocolate fudge.

“
Chocolate
fudge?”
She whistled. “I've been living right!”

Laura would have given him the look.
“Two Pop-Tarts?”

After lunch, Jack mowed the lawn and cleared the rain gutters, in case the weather hit the skids like the weatherman had predicted. He also fixed the front-door lock as Nattie made tea for her dolls and served it on the front step. Jack joined her when he was done, and Nattie reminded him that the last tea party she'd thrown, both he
and
Laura had attended.

“We had cupcakes,” she added, and just as the clouds finally rolled in, Nattie pushed the tiny table away and made a face. “Can't you try again?”

“I've practically begged Laura not to go.”

Nattie looked horrified. “You mean you haven't
actually
begged?”

Sitting on the cement slab, watching the storm clouds grow darker and darker, he enfolded her into his arms, and she leaned hard against him.

“Are you going to ask Kelly to go with you?”

“Go where?”

“Stop,” she said, playfully slapping his arm.

“Besides, grown-ups don't do that.”

“What do you do?”

Jack shrugged. “After you've spent enough time with someone, it's just assumed you're together.”

Nattie leaned her chin into her hands and stared straight ahead. He could imagine what she was thinking, that Laura left because of Kelly. So if Kelly wasn't in the picture, wouldn't Laura come back?

“Whatever happens, we'll get through this,” Jack said. “You 'n' me, kiddo. Together, we're golden.” He winced at how glib he sounded and added, “I miss her, too, honey.”

Nattie wiped her eyes on Jack's shirt. “At least I get to see her on the weekends.”

Like child custody,
he thought, hoping Nattie's association with Laura would continue far, far into the future.

When Laura showed up on Tuesday she was fighting a cold or something, but despite her sickness, she buzzed around the house like the old days, and it broke his heart. So far, Jack hadn't even attempted to find a part-time housekeeper, still hoping against hope that she'd change her mind.

Miracles happen,
he tried to tell himself.

And he still hadn't asked Kelly for another date.

Yesterday, San had texted him:
When do
you need me next?

I don't know,
he'd texted back.

Oh for Pete's sake! What kind
of knuckle-dragger are you? Don't let this one
go, Jack. I have a good feeling about her.

She had a point. What
was
keeping him?

On Wednesday, he mustered up some courage and dialed Kelly's number, and as he listened to the rings, he was more nervous than he'd expected. When she answered, she seemed surprised to hear from him, as if they hadn't been keeping in touch all along.

In fact, they'd been texting throughout the day ever since their first date, and her texts were always bright, cheery, and encouraging. But the more they talked, the more nervous he became, putting off the inevitable question until nearly thirty minutes had passed, and he began saying things that would terminate their conversation.

He was about to hang up, feeling absolutely bewildered at his own feelings, when Kelly whispered softly, sounding lost, “Aren't you going to ask me out again, Jack?”

He felt a release in his stomach. Her question struck him as surprisingly vulnerable for someone as confident as Kelly seemed to be, but he liked feeling pulled into her life, into her heart. In a single moment, it was as if her secrecy had melted away, and wasn't that what had been bothering him?

He could imagine San, sitting on his shoulder with her trident and red tail, rolling her eyes:
“Men and their
ridiculous egos!”

He immediately suggested another date: Friday night.

“I feel . . . stupid,” she said instead. “I shouldn't have pushed. We don't have to—”

“But I
want
to.”

She sighed into the phone.

“Kelly?”

“What I'd really like to do is cook you dinner,” she said. “You and Nattie, but my place isn't nearly as nice as yours. I just moved in, and I haven't had a chance—”

“I'd rather cook
you
dinner,” Jack insisted.

Another hesitation. “Are you sure?” She sounded worried. “I mean . . . are you sure you want to pursue this? I'd like to, but I feel as if I'm guilting you into it. You really know nothing about me. I have a sordid past, Jack.”

Jack laughed. “I doubt that—”

“I'm not very good at this dating stuff, either. It's been so long.”

“Me either. Let's just see where it leads.”

They talked for another half hour, cautiously sharing their uncertainty about romance and love, and reaching a kind of heartfelt honesty he'd never imagined was possible with another human being.

When he hung up, his nagging sense of concern had dissipated.
I'm falling,
he thought, and it felt wonderful.